Chapter 2
The great In'ca Din'ca capital city of Um'tallara'non was enshrouded in more than half a kilometer of water, swirling with various and wondrous forms of life. A semi-constant mist of tiny bubbles, oxygen leaks from various chambers and devices, surrounded the city in kind of a surreal mist. Giant lo'quaa predators swept by, pausing to assess the city with their massive vidscreen-sized eyes before sweeping onwards towards less confusing and more edible prey.
The hangar bays of the great city were located at the very highest point, balanced on their tall, broad towers by a shelf of coral rising nearly to the faraway surface of the watery planet. Shimmering golden containment fields held back the water in a sort of hypnotizing ripple, and static discharges lent sound and bright color to the display.
Luke remembered that when he, Corran, and General Bel Iblis had first come to the planet to negotiate a treaty between the In'ca Din'ca Combine and the floundering Rebel forces, they'd landed on an exterior landing pad for diplomatic guests. However, they were not suited for the storage of craft like the Rebels' fighters and small cruisers, and so they had relocated to the hangars.
It was a curious arrangement. Since the X-wings and small ships that the Rebels possessed were not capable of traveling under the water to reach the city, the In'ca Din'ca had been forced to come up with something to help make the transition very quickly.
One of the jury-rigged ferry craft sat in the hangar at this moment, just settling the surface, its long, spider-limbed body slowly lowering its sole burden to the durasteel floor of the hangar with great precision. The In'ca Din'ca ferry pilots had become quite adept with the skeletal ships' magnetic clamps in a matter of months. Then Luke's jaw dropped as he realized what ship the ferry was depositing in the hold.
It was the Millenium Falcon.
"Luke?" General Bel Iblis murmured, awestruck, as he came up beside him. "Is that what I think it is?" He sounded half-relieved, half- apprehensive of the sudden development.
Luke didn't answer but immediately started forwards as the light freighter touched down on the deck, landing ramp lowering before the magnetic clamp arms had even had a chance to fully disengage. The ferry pilot began to maneuver over to the far wall in case it was needed in the near future.
The first figure down the ramp of the battered old ship was, predictably, the galaxy's most famous smuggler-turned-soldier, and undoubtedly one of the Rebellion's most visible symbols.
Han Solo.
"Han!" Luke exclaimed, closing the final few meters to the Falcon and wrapping his brother-in-law in a massive bear hug that the stunned Han was slow to return. Luke stepped slightly away to look the Corellian up and down.
"Luke!" came a female voice, and Leia Organa Solo came charging down the ramp to throw her arms around Luke's neck for a brief moment.
Han's patented wry grin slipped onto his mouth. "Should have guessed that you'd be the one to create this whole big mess up-orbit," he said, jerking a thumb towards the ferry now settled against the wall. "Guys should learn to pilot properly before taking on a tug job."
Luke's grin softened. "Good to see you too, Han," he said.
"What about me, Skywalker?" came a voice, and Luke looked up to see Mara Jade framed in the entrance to the boarding ramp, obviously tired and limping slightly on one leg, but smiling and healthy-looking.
"Mara," Luke exclaimed with genuine relief. Since her completion of the Emperor's last command to kill Luke Skywalker was accomplished by doing in his clone at the Mount Tantiss facility, Luke and Mara had become almost friends, and he had enjoyed the opportunity to practice his teaching skills by honing her natural Force talents. "How are you doing?"
She made her way down the ramp and brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear with a weary sigh. "Imperials tried to take the Myrkyr hideout apart just a day after we'd set up. I got away and had myself a little reminder of that trek you and I did through the forest."
"Ah." Luke winced. He remembered that trip too. Vornskrs and wandering Imperial patrols, among other things, had made it less than a fun time. "Obviously you got out okay."
Mara bit her lip. "One of Karrde's contacts got me ship, and I started hopping around looking for you guys." She glanced down. "I couldn't get anyone else out alive," she murmured.
Obviously a sensitive subject. Luke steered the conversation deftly away from that area. "Actually, I'm headed up-orbit right now," he said as smoothly as possible. "Apparently what's left of Thrawn's fleet has been nosing around the In'ca Din'ca's outer systems, asking for a meeting."
Han did a double take. "Thrawn? The guy doesn't have an honest bone in his body!" he said in an outraged tone. "He doesn't even have the decency to die quietly when you need him to!"
Luke, Mara, Bel Iblis, and Leia all shared a smile at Han's self- righteous indignation.
Then Leia turned back to Luke. "You said you're going up there? For what?" Her eyes widened. "You're going to go meet with him?" she asked incredulously.
Luke conceded with a guilty expression on his face. "He's been making peace overtures," he allowed quietly. "I'm going to go up with a few others and start sounding it out."
"Peace? Thrawn?" Han snorted. "This is the same guy who tricked us into thinking he'd blockaded Coruscant with almost three hundred asteroids, the same guy who tried to unleash a new round of Clone Wars. Peace is not in his nature."
"But tactics are, General Solo," Bel Iblis said gruffly. "And even a low-ranking starfighter pilot could tell you that with whatever Thrawn's got left in his fleet and what that Dark Jedi on Coruscant has, he needs ships and men."
Han grumbled at that but let it pass. "So now we're turning into an arm of the Imperial forces?"
Leia swatted him on the arm. "Remember Bakura, Han?" she raised her eyebrows in reminder. "We didn't do so badly with the Imperials there."
"As I recall, I didn't much like the idea from the start," Han blustered. "And look where that went: Luke nearly got killed by those whatchamacallits they but in his bloodstream, Flurry vaped by the Imps..."
"Han."
"All right, all right," Han subsided with ill grace. "At least let us come with you, Luke. You need someone to watch your back, especially with Thrawn."
Luke and Bel Iblis traded more amused glances.
"Very well," the general said. "Let's get the ferry loaded up, and we'll be off."
"Admiral?" Captain Gilad Pellaeon stood stiffly before the door to Grand Admiral Thrawn's private chambers aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimera, thanking the fates for the thousandth time that Rukh was no longer around to pester him whenever he tried to see the Grand Admiral. Of course, Rukh was no longer around because of the mass rebellion that had taken hold of the Noghri, and that grated.
The door slid quietly aside, and Pellaeon stepped warily into the room beyond.
Normally, the Grand Admiral's chambers were festooned with all manner of exotic artworks, usually holographic reproductions, all taken from alien worlds and all aimed at granting Thrawn some unusual insight into the psyche of the Empire's enemies.
Like the one that threatened to consume them now.
Pellaeon hated the thought of Dark Jedi; he'd been opposed even to Joruus C'baoth's participation in the Empire's war from the very start, and a full-fledged, calculating Dark Jedi was even worse. But never in all his imaginings would he have though one to rise up with the Rebels against the Empire.
K'talla M'niisonn, Pellaeon reminded himself of her name. She had controlled Coruscant now for nearly five months, and to all indications, she and her forces had settled in easily, to begin the establishment of her new empire, one that threatened both the actual Empire and the recalcitrant Rebel Alliance.
"Captain?" Thrawn's voice broke into his thoughts, and Pellaeon snapped to even stiffer attention, were it possible.
Thrawn was seated behind his wraparound desk that could change at the flick of a hand from art display table to a full tactical analysis and display computer linked directly to the Star Destroyer's main computer. Currently, it was an art gallery, a repulsive one, Pellaeon thought. Curled pipes and pitted coral wound in convoluted formation around strange creatures and landscapes, creating a disharmonious symphony of shape and perception.
"Preliminary long-range sensor analysis, sir," he said, handing Thrawn a datacard over the illusionary display. "Intelligence says that all nearest habitable systems are not worth the risk of occupation. Defenses are high and as you know the In'ca Din'ca fleet is near."
"Yes," Thrawn murmured. "We certainly do not want to provoke them, not if we're hoping for an alliance. Not yet, anyway." The Grand Admiral seemed, as always, somewhat distant, yet utterly sure and in control of the situation.
Pellaeon must have let something slip in his expression, because Thrawn glanced up at him with a subtly condescending smile.
"You do not favor an alliance with this rabble, Captain?"
It was useless to lie, Pellaeon knew. Thrawn had never had any problems reading him or his thoughts. "Yes, sir," he admitted. "Regardless of their ragged appearance, all indications are that the Rebels and In'ca Din'ca, especially the latter, are deadly fighters and can be quite cunning."
Thrawn flicked a hand in dismissal. "I have seen examples of the In'ca Din'ca's artwork," he said. "They are indeed complex and quite intelligent, but they, like everyone else, have their weak spots."
Pellaeon felt sufficiently brave enough to press the issue. "However, working together, couldn't they maybe overcome these weaknesses by combined planning?"
Thrawn smiled softly, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. "You impress me, Captain," he congratulated him. "That is indeed the sort of thinking I expect to have to encounter as they grow accustomed to me." He swiveled back to the art. "However, we can adjust for it."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon suppressed a sigh.
He had turned to leave when a strident beep rang out from the Grand Admiral's communications panel. The fake sculptures disappeared instantly, and once more the room took on the aspect of a war room. Thrawn reached for the toggle.
"Grand Admiral Thrawn," he said calmly into the speaker.
"Admiral, this is the bridge," the voice of Major Tschel rang out from the device. "We've detected a small fleet of In'ca Din'ca warships approaching, sir. Preliminary hails indicate that they are carrying a diplomatic delegation responding to our overtures, sir."
"Excellent," Thrawn told the major. "Keep me informed; myself and Captain Pellaeon will be arriving on the bridge to conduct further talks." He hit the kill button and turned to Pellaeon, rising out of the chair and smiling viciously, like a nek battle dog about to pounce. "Come, Captain," he said. "Let us greet our guests."
The great In'ca Din'ca capital city of Um'tallara'non was enshrouded in more than half a kilometer of water, swirling with various and wondrous forms of life. A semi-constant mist of tiny bubbles, oxygen leaks from various chambers and devices, surrounded the city in kind of a surreal mist. Giant lo'quaa predators swept by, pausing to assess the city with their massive vidscreen-sized eyes before sweeping onwards towards less confusing and more edible prey.
The hangar bays of the great city were located at the very highest point, balanced on their tall, broad towers by a shelf of coral rising nearly to the faraway surface of the watery planet. Shimmering golden containment fields held back the water in a sort of hypnotizing ripple, and static discharges lent sound and bright color to the display.
Luke remembered that when he, Corran, and General Bel Iblis had first come to the planet to negotiate a treaty between the In'ca Din'ca Combine and the floundering Rebel forces, they'd landed on an exterior landing pad for diplomatic guests. However, they were not suited for the storage of craft like the Rebels' fighters and small cruisers, and so they had relocated to the hangars.
It was a curious arrangement. Since the X-wings and small ships that the Rebels possessed were not capable of traveling under the water to reach the city, the In'ca Din'ca had been forced to come up with something to help make the transition very quickly.
One of the jury-rigged ferry craft sat in the hangar at this moment, just settling the surface, its long, spider-limbed body slowly lowering its sole burden to the durasteel floor of the hangar with great precision. The In'ca Din'ca ferry pilots had become quite adept with the skeletal ships' magnetic clamps in a matter of months. Then Luke's jaw dropped as he realized what ship the ferry was depositing in the hold.
It was the Millenium Falcon.
"Luke?" General Bel Iblis murmured, awestruck, as he came up beside him. "Is that what I think it is?" He sounded half-relieved, half- apprehensive of the sudden development.
Luke didn't answer but immediately started forwards as the light freighter touched down on the deck, landing ramp lowering before the magnetic clamp arms had even had a chance to fully disengage. The ferry pilot began to maneuver over to the far wall in case it was needed in the near future.
The first figure down the ramp of the battered old ship was, predictably, the galaxy's most famous smuggler-turned-soldier, and undoubtedly one of the Rebellion's most visible symbols.
Han Solo.
"Han!" Luke exclaimed, closing the final few meters to the Falcon and wrapping his brother-in-law in a massive bear hug that the stunned Han was slow to return. Luke stepped slightly away to look the Corellian up and down.
"Luke!" came a female voice, and Leia Organa Solo came charging down the ramp to throw her arms around Luke's neck for a brief moment.
Han's patented wry grin slipped onto his mouth. "Should have guessed that you'd be the one to create this whole big mess up-orbit," he said, jerking a thumb towards the ferry now settled against the wall. "Guys should learn to pilot properly before taking on a tug job."
Luke's grin softened. "Good to see you too, Han," he said.
"What about me, Skywalker?" came a voice, and Luke looked up to see Mara Jade framed in the entrance to the boarding ramp, obviously tired and limping slightly on one leg, but smiling and healthy-looking.
"Mara," Luke exclaimed with genuine relief. Since her completion of the Emperor's last command to kill Luke Skywalker was accomplished by doing in his clone at the Mount Tantiss facility, Luke and Mara had become almost friends, and he had enjoyed the opportunity to practice his teaching skills by honing her natural Force talents. "How are you doing?"
She made her way down the ramp and brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear with a weary sigh. "Imperials tried to take the Myrkyr hideout apart just a day after we'd set up. I got away and had myself a little reminder of that trek you and I did through the forest."
"Ah." Luke winced. He remembered that trip too. Vornskrs and wandering Imperial patrols, among other things, had made it less than a fun time. "Obviously you got out okay."
Mara bit her lip. "One of Karrde's contacts got me ship, and I started hopping around looking for you guys." She glanced down. "I couldn't get anyone else out alive," she murmured.
Obviously a sensitive subject. Luke steered the conversation deftly away from that area. "Actually, I'm headed up-orbit right now," he said as smoothly as possible. "Apparently what's left of Thrawn's fleet has been nosing around the In'ca Din'ca's outer systems, asking for a meeting."
Han did a double take. "Thrawn? The guy doesn't have an honest bone in his body!" he said in an outraged tone. "He doesn't even have the decency to die quietly when you need him to!"
Luke, Mara, Bel Iblis, and Leia all shared a smile at Han's self- righteous indignation.
Then Leia turned back to Luke. "You said you're going up there? For what?" Her eyes widened. "You're going to go meet with him?" she asked incredulously.
Luke conceded with a guilty expression on his face. "He's been making peace overtures," he allowed quietly. "I'm going to go up with a few others and start sounding it out."
"Peace? Thrawn?" Han snorted. "This is the same guy who tricked us into thinking he'd blockaded Coruscant with almost three hundred asteroids, the same guy who tried to unleash a new round of Clone Wars. Peace is not in his nature."
"But tactics are, General Solo," Bel Iblis said gruffly. "And even a low-ranking starfighter pilot could tell you that with whatever Thrawn's got left in his fleet and what that Dark Jedi on Coruscant has, he needs ships and men."
Han grumbled at that but let it pass. "So now we're turning into an arm of the Imperial forces?"
Leia swatted him on the arm. "Remember Bakura, Han?" she raised her eyebrows in reminder. "We didn't do so badly with the Imperials there."
"As I recall, I didn't much like the idea from the start," Han blustered. "And look where that went: Luke nearly got killed by those whatchamacallits they but in his bloodstream, Flurry vaped by the Imps..."
"Han."
"All right, all right," Han subsided with ill grace. "At least let us come with you, Luke. You need someone to watch your back, especially with Thrawn."
Luke and Bel Iblis traded more amused glances.
"Very well," the general said. "Let's get the ferry loaded up, and we'll be off."
"Admiral?" Captain Gilad Pellaeon stood stiffly before the door to Grand Admiral Thrawn's private chambers aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimera, thanking the fates for the thousandth time that Rukh was no longer around to pester him whenever he tried to see the Grand Admiral. Of course, Rukh was no longer around because of the mass rebellion that had taken hold of the Noghri, and that grated.
The door slid quietly aside, and Pellaeon stepped warily into the room beyond.
Normally, the Grand Admiral's chambers were festooned with all manner of exotic artworks, usually holographic reproductions, all taken from alien worlds and all aimed at granting Thrawn some unusual insight into the psyche of the Empire's enemies.
Like the one that threatened to consume them now.
Pellaeon hated the thought of Dark Jedi; he'd been opposed even to Joruus C'baoth's participation in the Empire's war from the very start, and a full-fledged, calculating Dark Jedi was even worse. But never in all his imaginings would he have though one to rise up with the Rebels against the Empire.
K'talla M'niisonn, Pellaeon reminded himself of her name. She had controlled Coruscant now for nearly five months, and to all indications, she and her forces had settled in easily, to begin the establishment of her new empire, one that threatened both the actual Empire and the recalcitrant Rebel Alliance.
"Captain?" Thrawn's voice broke into his thoughts, and Pellaeon snapped to even stiffer attention, were it possible.
Thrawn was seated behind his wraparound desk that could change at the flick of a hand from art display table to a full tactical analysis and display computer linked directly to the Star Destroyer's main computer. Currently, it was an art gallery, a repulsive one, Pellaeon thought. Curled pipes and pitted coral wound in convoluted formation around strange creatures and landscapes, creating a disharmonious symphony of shape and perception.
"Preliminary long-range sensor analysis, sir," he said, handing Thrawn a datacard over the illusionary display. "Intelligence says that all nearest habitable systems are not worth the risk of occupation. Defenses are high and as you know the In'ca Din'ca fleet is near."
"Yes," Thrawn murmured. "We certainly do not want to provoke them, not if we're hoping for an alliance. Not yet, anyway." The Grand Admiral seemed, as always, somewhat distant, yet utterly sure and in control of the situation.
Pellaeon must have let something slip in his expression, because Thrawn glanced up at him with a subtly condescending smile.
"You do not favor an alliance with this rabble, Captain?"
It was useless to lie, Pellaeon knew. Thrawn had never had any problems reading him or his thoughts. "Yes, sir," he admitted. "Regardless of their ragged appearance, all indications are that the Rebels and In'ca Din'ca, especially the latter, are deadly fighters and can be quite cunning."
Thrawn flicked a hand in dismissal. "I have seen examples of the In'ca Din'ca's artwork," he said. "They are indeed complex and quite intelligent, but they, like everyone else, have their weak spots."
Pellaeon felt sufficiently brave enough to press the issue. "However, working together, couldn't they maybe overcome these weaknesses by combined planning?"
Thrawn smiled softly, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. "You impress me, Captain," he congratulated him. "That is indeed the sort of thinking I expect to have to encounter as they grow accustomed to me." He swiveled back to the art. "However, we can adjust for it."
"Yes, sir," Pellaeon suppressed a sigh.
He had turned to leave when a strident beep rang out from the Grand Admiral's communications panel. The fake sculptures disappeared instantly, and once more the room took on the aspect of a war room. Thrawn reached for the toggle.
"Grand Admiral Thrawn," he said calmly into the speaker.
"Admiral, this is the bridge," the voice of Major Tschel rang out from the device. "We've detected a small fleet of In'ca Din'ca warships approaching, sir. Preliminary hails indicate that they are carrying a diplomatic delegation responding to our overtures, sir."
"Excellent," Thrawn told the major. "Keep me informed; myself and Captain Pellaeon will be arriving on the bridge to conduct further talks." He hit the kill button and turned to Pellaeon, rising out of the chair and smiling viciously, like a nek battle dog about to pounce. "Come, Captain," he said. "Let us greet our guests."